


The 6th of November

by vampirewithbedsidemanners



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, hiddlestoners
Genre: "Take care", F/M, FFF Submission, Hiddlestories FFF, Trigger Warning: Death, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:31:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampirewithbedsidemanners/pseuds/vampirewithbedsidemanners
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the 6th of November last year, Tom had been there for her. This year, he would be there for her again, whether she wanted him there or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 6th of November

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for Hiddlestories Friday Fluff Fanfare.

Something was wrong. I scrolled through our rather short conversation, pressing back against my seat on the underground. Her responses were cold, short and quick, lacking the piece of her that eased his mind when he was away. Because she was her. Just not today.

_Yes._

_No._

_I'm fine._

_Okay._

I called her at noon, she didn't pick up. I sent her a text, and she didn't reply.  _Something is wrong._ It ate at me, eroding away my usual calm, attempted optimism. It tugged at my heart, steering me forward as I stepped off the train and climbed up onto the streets of London, a block from our house. The cold bit into my skin, but I could not feel it. Out of habit I turned my coat up and started home.

One block. Round the corner.  _Home._

All the lights were off, inside and out. From the street I could make out her silhouette in the bedroom window, seated on the bench seat. I unlocked the door and stepped into the dark entryway, closing the door softly behind me.

"Darling..." I called. She didn't answer. I shrugged off my jacket and slid off my shoes.  _Something is wrong._  I felt the thought rather than actually thinking it. It radiated out through my chest in tight ribbons of gentle pain. Maybe it was fear.

I walked into the bedroom. She didn't notice. Her eyes were fixated on the window, looking but seeing something else. Her face was passive, but I could see the reflection of the moonlight off her tear-stained cheeks. At her feet laid her notebook, closed and forgotten. "Love..." I said. Silence. She couldn't hear me.

But she wasn't mad at me. I knew that much. This wasnt about me, or us. This was something beyond me. Memories clawed at my mind of all the possible things it could be. Nothing fit. She sat, curled up against the wall, my gray v-neck that she loved so much hanging off her the way it always did, twisting and pooling in her lap where it was far to big on her.

I realized then that I had been standing still, watching her. Frozen in place. Frozen instead of taking her in my arms and kissing away her tears. The thought hit me and I surged forward tentatively, reaching out to her in mute request. She didn't move, didn't tense. I wove my arms around her and she neither resisted nor accepted me. She had no fight in her, no life. I could feel the numbness that spread through her into me. 

The bench was too small for the both of us, so I lifted her away and walked the short distance to the bed. She was so small, curled against my chest; limp in my arms. Another ribbon of pain constricted around my chest.  _Yes. This was fear. I was afraid for her._  

I placed her in the bed, pausing to shuffled out of my jeans before climbing in beside her. They fell in a heap on the floor but I didn't notice. I saw her hand move slightly in my direction, as if some deep part of her was reaching out to me through her unresponsive form. I took her hand gently, immediately. I pulled her into my chest and cradled her head against my heart.

"Talk to me." I whispered into her hair. What tension was held in her small form melted away, her walls coming down and her tears flowing once more. This was more than I usually got from her. She was normally so openly closed, loving and kind and compassionate but guarded. I never knew what she was thinking, not really. She would never say. I knew what she felt, but only when she wanted me to know. 

But that was okay. Because I love her. 

I tightened my arms around her, resisting the pull to press kisses against her skin, her lips, her eyes until she stopped crying; her heart until it stopped hurting her. I held her because she needed it. Because this wasn't about me. "Talk to me, darling." I said softly, chasing all the raw emotion out of my voice, leaving only compassion and love in my gentle, probing whisper. _  
_

"Its the 6th of November."

Of course.

In the back of my mind an image took hold. We knelt in the snow covered grass, the bitter cold of the snow only second in comparison to the cold that had settled in the pit of my stomach. She was so pale, her eyes wandering over the plot. Over and over. She still couldnt believe it. Neither could I. The rest of the mourners had gone long ago, leaving her in peace. 

Carved into stone were the words carved into her heart, that beat in the silence on nights like this where all her memories came flooding back.

_Kaylen Andrews. November 6th._

_Friend. Daughter. Sister._

_Twin._


End file.
